


Sweet and simple

by meinposhbastard



Series: Being that our case... [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternative Universe - Gender Changes, Alternative Universe - Human, Domesticity, F/F, Genderswap, Snogging, genderbent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day in our darlings' lives. This time, Crowley is in a bad mood and Azira has the writer's block. They meet on the sofa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet and simple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnet/gifts).



> *heavy sigh* that summary is the worst I've ever come up with >.>  
> Anyway, at long last, R had a bit of free time in her busy schedule and we immediately tackled down the second part XD

Azira is sitting on the counter in the open floor kitchen, sipping lazily from her black and white mug.

She had taken a break after almost four hours of writing, because her muse was being particularly capricious. After she had had to delete more than a couple of sentences, she decided it was time for a break.

The front door opens and shuts ferociously, as a muttering Crowley marches in, doing multiple things at once. She takes off her Bella Top Louboutin in a hurry, simultaneously letting her black leather bag fall to the laminated floor with a dull thud. She throws her blazer in the direction of the white leather sofa, not stopping to check if it has reached its destination or not. The blazer manages to hit the back of the sofa and stay there, but in a precarious position.

Azira follows her with her gaze, until Crowley rounds the corner into their bedroom.

She hops off the counter, leaving her empty mug there, and goes after her lover. Passing by the sofa, she prevents Crowley’s blazer from falling off, since it was in the process of sliding down.

The blonde finds her lover in the bedroom, now only in her high-waist pencil skirt, which is quickly taken off and thrown in the direction of her scarlet shirt. Both garments rest in a heap on the floor.

Azira doesn’t get the chance to take a proper look at Crowley’s body, even if she’s seen her in various degrees of undress. She starts towards her, intending to pull her into a hug, because it is crystal clear by now that she is distressed. Well, maybe more like angry and ready to snap some throats, but those are details.

Crowley continues to mutter under her breath and closes the door to the bathroom, just as Azira was about to reach for her.

Azira blinks at the closed door inches away from her nose. She doesn’t get the chance to snap out of the surprised state she’s in, before the door is flung open again. Crowley throws herself at her lover, forcing her to take two steps back. Azira’s arms react quickly, circling themselves around Crowley’s middle in a warm and protective embrace.

“Sorry, ‘Zira,” Crowley mutters into her ear, while she nuzzles her throat, shielded by the blonde’s generous curls. “Bad day.”

Then she kisses her. Kisses Azira as if they’ve been apart for a year. Such longing and desire, etched beautifully with an apology at the end.

Azira is too caught up in the double surprise to manage to answer or take action other than respond to the kiss. It has nothing to do with her presence of mind; by now it’s considered muscle memory.

Their gazes lock for a second, before the bathroom door is once again shut in her face, leaving Azira in a daze. She wets her lips, tasting something bitter.

It had been a black coffee, no sugar kind of day.

She smiles, then heads into the living room.

-0-

“Those two are going to make me snap one of these days,” Crowley almost growls, sprawled comfortably on the sofa, her head resting in Azira’s lap. “And nobody will want to be there when I reach that point.”

“Blood will flow like red rivers, descending the many steps of the building, terrorised shrieks will paint the hallways, the air thick with murderous intent--”

“I’m being serious here, Azira,” Crowley says, annoyed.

“I know, my dear,” she replies with a fond smile, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on her lover’s forehead.

Crowley falls quiet for a couple of seconds, reveling in the comfortable silence of the flat. It helps that her lover’s hand is buried in her dark mane, massaging her scalp in a way nobody else will ever be able to accomplish. Her eyes flutter shut, losing herself in the sensation, Azira’s calm breaths soothing music to her ears.

“Maybe you should try to reach middle ground with Mr Ligur, if Mr Hastur is such a hard rock to drill.”

Crowley snorts. “As if that dog will ever think with his own head. He’s just the executioner, the other bastard is the brains of the outfit. Ligur is at Hastur’s beck and call. It makes me sick when I see them.”

Azira sighs softly. “Oh dear.”

“How’s your novel going?” Crowley asks, clearly wanting to think of anything but the two people that are making the trial go at a snail’s pace.

“Mmm,” Azira hums, and Crowley opens an eye to peer at her.

“That’s not an answer, ‘Zira.”

She looks down at her lover and smiles, amused. “I think I’m entering that phase called ‘writer’s block’.”

Crowley snorts again. “You know that doesn’t exist. It’s just an excuse to lament and not write, that’s all.”

“How would you know?” She asks curiously.

Crowley shrugs one shoulder. “I think that if you really want to finish something you’d better get your arse to work and do it.”

Azira’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

Crowley sits up and turns her upper body to look at her lover, now a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Yeah, you stubbornly pursue that thing, even if you’re not sure whether you’ll achieve the desired result,” she leans in, getting closer and closer to Azira. “or if there’s a matter as simple as a Mars bar that threatens to make you give up.”

She’s half an inch away from taking Azira’s plump lips and devouring her.

“Now, my dear, I’m not sure if we’re still on the same subject or--”

“--or I wandered off to some far away memory.” Crowley smirks before taking what has been dangling in front of her hungry eyes.

She pushes Azira all the way into the seat of the sofa, straddling her legs in one smooth movement. Azira’s hands find Crowley’s hips immediately, sneaking under the black tank top and caressing every inch of skin that she can find.

“I still can’t believe you were so offended by the fact that I found Mars bars to be too sweet for me,” she says breathlessly, when they break apart.

Crowley continues to kiss and nip at her jaw and throat in no order.

“All of seven billion people on this planet should try a deep-fried Mars bar at least once in their life. It’s heaven in a bar!”

“More like an explosion of fat and calories. Seems like hell in heaven’s clothes to me.”

“Don’t judge a book by its content,” Crowley retors and Azira laughs, making the brunette smirk. “It’s futile to argue against them when you were moaning obscenely the first time you tried one.”

Azira blushes, the comment silencing her laugh. She hadn’t expected it to taste so good, despite the high percentage of calories. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from expressing how ‘heavenly’ it was. Crowley still teases her about that.

Still, it turned out to be a good memory, because that was the catalyst they needed (more like Crowley) to make a move in the direction both of them had been heading in (at a snail’s pace, yes).  

“You’re not fair.” Azira tries to pout, but there’s no space for it when a wide smile curves her lips upwards.

Crowley wastes no time, trying to kiss the smile off her lips.

“How could I ever be unfair to this sweet, innocent and lovely person?” She says between kisses.

“You’re becoming oddly romantic, my dear. Are you sure you haven’t ‘accidentally’ dropped another plant over the edge of the balcony again?”

Crowley’s eyes widen comically. “Darn,” she whispers in mock terror, because that grin is too wide to take seriously.

Azira sneaks her hands behind her neck, pulling the brunette in and commencing a languid, searing kiss.

They both know Crowley stopped bullying her plants after Azira moved in. Although at the beginning she was rather annoyed by her interferences, she soon learned that Azira’s stubbornness could surpass even her own. She hadn’t given up on them, though, but it’s mainly her lover that waters and speaks to them.

Well, she’s the one that’s perpetually home, and she usually speaks to them when Crowley has to remain past working hours and Azira feels a bit lonely. She enjoys talking to Crowley’s plants and now, two years since her coming to live there, it has become something of a habit. There’s not a single day that passes and she doesn’t drop a word to them.

Things start to heat up and they decide to move them into the bedroom.

The plants, lush and green, bask in the afternoon glow.


End file.
